Chapter 11 - Fates, Fins, and Fangs

WOW. RICH PEOPLE WERE really something. Not sure if that something was good or bad....

The Original Sin was a glossy, towering structure that should have looked out of place in Ontonagon, but somehow...didn't. I ignored the valet parking and entered the parking structure. Even that was classy. Well-lit. Immaculately clean. I was surprised at the number of cars around the place. I certainly couldn't afford to go blow money on slots and cards just for fun. I was too busy just squeaking by on what little money my parents had left behind, bolstered by part-time jobs so I could afford tuition and books and still put some food in my belly.

I was stunned that this many people in this backwater city could afford a luxury like a trip to the Sin.

Ontonagon had been growing since before I came to live here. Back then it had a been a small to mid-sized burg. But I understood it had been barely more than a speck on the map back several decades ago. And the way the population had exploded in the few years I'd lived here was just surreal. I guess it was all thanks to things like the glowing beacon of debauchery I currently approached.

I slipped the envelope in my back pocket. I locked my purse in my car, just so I wouldn't be tempted. I was only dropping off this envelope at the front desk. I wasn't here to spend money or do anything that required me to be of age. Squaring my shoulders and tugging my fleece sweatshirt down over my scrubs, I reminded myself that I didn't really care if I didn't fit in here. I didn't need to fit in here. I was just an errand girl for a psychopath.

I took the elevator from the parking garage to the lobby. Even the stinking elevators were nice. No scrapes and dings. No graffiti or weird smells. I stepped off the elevator and paused to take in the scene before me. The whole place was decked out in deep, rich colors, dark red and black prominent among them. Glossy wood gleamed from every surface, and the recessed lighting was warm without being too bright. It was like I'd stepped into a living, breathing thing. It kind of...enfolded you and made you never want to leave.

Which was probably why it was so packed. People milled about everywhere, most of them dressed in upscale, fancy clothes. The gambling areas were nestled deeper in the building. A sign indicated the high-roller area for blackjack was located up on the large balcony accessed by a sweeping wooden staircase that looked like something out of a Gothic mansion.

I swallowed. Why was I here again?

Rolling my eyes at myself and the stupid things I got myself into, I made my way to the front desk. The sweeping counter, manned by several sharp-eyed employees wearing black shirts and fitted red vests, blocked the entrance to the main areas of the casino, so not just anyone could drift in off the street. A tall woman with a classy, upswept blond bun and glossy red lips watched me approach. She eyed my messy hair, comfy fleece, scuffed sneakers, and scrub pants. Then her eyes met mine and she gave me a bright, customer service smile.

"Hello. Welcome to the Original Sin," she purred. "How can I help you?"

I suddenly felt way out of my element, outclassed by everything around me. Some upscale restaurant took up the far side of the lobby, and a burst of loud laughter drifted my way, making me startle. Why was I so on edge? It was just a damned casino.

I smiled my best tolerant medical professional smile right back at the blond. "I have something to deliver to Mr. White."

She arched a perfectly plucked and lined brow at me. "You mean for our Mr. White? It is a common name."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, for Derek White, the bigwig. I can just leave it with you, right?"

She pulled out a little stack of sticky-notes and a fountain pen. "Of course. May I get your name, please? I'm afraid Mr. White won't accept solicitation or communication from unknown parties."

I could tell by her tone of voice that she thought I was pulling something. What, I had no idea. But something shady.

I sighed. "My name is Troya Vindler." I spelled it for her, since my name was ridiculous. Her hand hovered over the notepad, not writing anything. I glance up to catch a really weird expression on her face. Like she'd just been handed a piece of chocolate, only to find out it had a lovely maggot filling.

"I'm sorry," she said, plastering that fake smile on her face again. "Did you say...Troya...Vindler?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I know. Weird-ass name. Look, can you just write it down and take this envelope so I can go home and get some sleep. It's been a long day."

I reached for my back pocket, but she was already shaking her head and putting her stupid little notepad away.

I crossed my arms and glared at her. "What now?"

Her lips stretched wider, and I'm pretty sure she would have spat poison at me if it was possible. "One moment, please, Miss Troya. I'll just let Mr. White know you're here."

With that, she spun and crossed behind the counter, ignoring the phone on the front desk for another old-fashioned gold and black one on the back counter. She pressed a couple of buttons and I leaned on the counter and put my head on my arms. It was late. I was tired. And this was all just stupid and crazy. Why the hell couldn't I just drop off a letter for the guy? Was he really that uptight? Did he really think he was so fucking important that people didn't have better things to do than wait around for him?

The blond woman glanced over her shoulder at me and covered her mouth as she spoke into the receiver. I raised a brow at her. She better not be calling security or something. That would be just my luck.

I jumped when a smooth, warm voice spoke from right beside me. "Good evening, Miss Troya," the silky baritone purred. "It's wonderful to see you."

I straightened and turned to face White's secretary. As usual, he was immaculately dressed, his spine ramrod straight, and his entire being full of this weird poise. Caramel colored curls framed his face and fell just past his chin, obscuring one side of his face, which was badly scarred. The other side of his face was angelic perfection. He bowed slightly, one hand coming up over his heart. The guy always wore leather gloves. I don't think I'd ever seen him without them, even when he came to visit the bookshop and chat with Gesa and her lovers. Even when he was off the clock, he was like some butler from a cheesy Japanese Manga.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and my tongue all tied up. I hadn't spoken to him often, but this happened every damned time. I think it had something to do with how I was always possessed with the urge to take off all my clothes and taste every inch of his smooth skin and perfect lips every time I was in the same room as him.

I had some serious problems controlling my stupid hormones.

He waited patiently for me to get my brain-cells to fire. Calm and non-judgmental as always, his expression was nothing but genuinely warm. But for some reason, I wanted to ask him what was wrong. I always thought the beautiful, scarred man seemed sad. Probably just my ovaries making up some romanticized story about him.

I finally got my tongue and brain back online and smiled at him. "Hello, Mr. Black. I'm sorry to just show up here. I know your boss is a super busy big-wig and whatnot." I waved a hand weakly. "But I have something for him."

I pulled the envelope out of my back pocket and held it out to the secretary. He'd make sure it got to his employer. He was very serious about his job.

I waited, hand outstretched, while the pretty guy eyed the envelope like it was some sort of lethal weapon. "Where did you get that?" he asked, expression still calm, but his one visible blue eye flashing with some intense emotion.

I frowned. "Okay, so this is going to sound really dumb, but...this crazy guy showed up at the hospital where I'm doing my internship, and he was ranting and raving, and he seemed to think I know White. He insisted I give this to your boss." I shrugged. "It's probably something really stupid. But I thought it was better to just bring it here, in case it was actually something important."

And, now that I actually said all that out loud, I realized how completely, utterly, stupid I sounded. What had compelled me to come here?

"Uh," I rushed to add, since he still wasn't taking the damned envelope. "Wow. I don't know why I thought this was important. I'll just...go now."

I went to stuff the envelope back into my pocket, but Black moved forward, his lean body brushing mine as he grabbed for my hand. I yanked my hand back in surprise and, since I'd been going for my back pocket, he got a handful of my more-than-ample ass.

I tensed, lust curling in the pit of my stomach at an alarming rate from just that stupid little accidental touch.

Black snatched his hand back like he'd been burned. I blinked, willing the weird sight from my brain when it seemed like his one visible eye was glowing.

He retreated another step, head down and eyes on the floor. "I'm incredibly sorry, Miss Troya. I didn't mean to touch you so."

He lifted his head again and regained his composure, holding out one gloved hand. "Please allow me to take the envelope. I'm not entirely sure it's safe for you to carry it."

I just raised my eyebrows at him, at a complete loss for what to say. I had no clue what was going on, but it was weird as hell. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

He took the envelope from me and I turned to go, surprised when he spoke again. "Please come with me," he said, breezing past me and toward a lone elevator with glossy black doors. "Mr. White will want to speak with you."

I shook my head, but followed him. This day just got weirder and weirder.